Percussive Maintenance
by Qu0t13
Summary: How do you fix a broken life? You beat it. And beat it. And beat it. Until it starts working again.
1. Fate Listens

He never asked for this life...

He had hoped for a different life, yes but…

From his patchwork of broken memories and grisly dreams, most of which had plagued him well into adolescence, he could scarcely recall a time before bed, each and every night, where he, young and afraid, would kneel by the window overlooking the garden and pray.

Pray to the moon, the stars, the sea… Whoever would listen, occult or not, blasphemous or not…

(He had long since stopped bothering with the Abbey. They believed his vile father's words and hard coin over his battered body and soft cries. They wouldn't help him.)

And he would pray, plead… Beg…

That in the morning he would wake to a world where he no longer had to dread each forenoon, wake to a world where he could look to his father's eyes without worry, a world where he did not have to fear the wrath of his brothers…

Wake to a world where his family loved him.

He knew, even then, at the most tender of ages, that the life he prayed so longingly for was but a pipe dream, some childish fantasy destined to burn, blacken and char...

He knew that no matter what…

His father would never be anything more than a beast, hungry and vile, who would gleefully sink his teeth and claws and abhorrent words into his brothers, beat them black and blue with the flat of his palm or back of his hand in a blind rage powered by the alcohol and anger burning through his veins…

Only to later hold him close, cradle him gently, lay him bare, sink inside him and call him by a dead woman's name as he whispered his most sinful affections.

He knew that his brothers would never, never love him… How could they? After all, they blamed him for the death of their mother, their real mother, not the horrid witch of a stepmother their father had all but dragged to his bed, hissing and spitting like a cat.

No, they held him accountable for the cursed state of their sorry excuse of a family and saw fit to reimburse the pain and suffering anointed to them by the beast their father had become, back unto him…

He knew they were suffering; they were all suffering; the cycle of sickness was unending and unforgiving.

And he was weak…

Try as he may, even so young, even so hurt, he could never truly bring himself to hate his brothers. They were victims, just as he. Their anger and hatred and wrath were misdirected yes… But appropriate given their predicament.

His brothers were old enough to remember a time before their mother's death, when their father was bright eyed and happy, where he would run his hands through his brother's hair and laugh…

Before their father turned to the bottle, to smoke and powder.

He had no memories of those happy days… There were no merry breakfasts in his memories, no gentle smiles or pats on the head, no Yuel mornings by the fire, no planting parties in the garden, no afternoon teas or gala dances…

Rather, breakfast was always eaten alone or in tense silence. Eye-contact was avoided at all costs, and if he could help it, he would keep everyone at arm's length... Yeul was an excuse to stay locked behind a door and the only time he ever ventured out into the garden was to hide…

He knew no joy or merriment… Not like his brothers did…

If anything, all he knew was desperate to escape this life…

The life of pain and fear, the life his father had created during his descent to the bottom of the bottle…

Meanwhile his brothers so very longingly wished to return to the life they once had… A life of normality and family and childish bliss. Where the world could be put on hold for a little while longer and things mattered a little less...

As far as he knew, only his prayers were answered…

However, this life, the life he had received in exchange for the life he escaped, was hardly his choice.

In his dreams, in his prayers… He was what was then home.

He woke every morning and ate breakfast with his brothers and father. Sometimes a strange woman would be seated opposite his father and sometimes a not so mean stepmother. They would talk and smile and everything was good.

He was taught by kind tutors in his dreams, they never spoke down to him, or scolded him for silly, simple mistakes and he did well in school, but whenever he began struggling, he could always turn to his brothers because they knew mostly everything, but if there was something even they didn't know, then they would all march to their father's office and ask him, because father knew absolutely everything.

His not so mean stepmother would read him bedtime stories and listen to him talk about his day as she did whatever it was stepmothers did. Though sometimes his not so mean stepmother was replaced by the same strange woman who would take the seat across from father.

She never spoke, and Treavor could never remember her face...

In his dreams he would play with his brothers, sometimes in the halls, even though their father told them not to, but even if he caught them he couldn't help but smile and ruffle their hair before sending them outside.

His brothers were kind in his dreams, they would sit with him and help with his homework. They would listen to him chatter about his day and sometimes, if their not so mean stepmother or the strange woman were to busy, they would read him bedtime stories…

Things were good in his dreams… Just like his brothers told him they were before he came a ruined their perfect life.

He would pray for his dreams to become his waking reality...

They told him that he had been on the Tricksters doorstep when they found him. And had they not, he surely would have died.

Had he stayed there any longer…

He had never asked for the life they had given him… But was he grateful? Yes... Oh stars yes, eternally.

They had given him a second chance at life.

His prayers, in the most roundabout way, had been answered at long, long last…

This was his life.

This was his life…


	2. First Glimpse Of Destiny

The two were rarely called by their individual names, it was always Garrett and Erin or Erin and Garrett. They weren't siblings by blood though, some did speculate the claim, they acted, and could very well pass as brother and sister regardless.

If Artemus was perfectly honest with himself, he couldn't exactly remember who Garrett was before he met Erin, he could remember how the young man acted, thought and spoke, his mannerisms and tendencies.

But that wasn't Garrett… Or at least not the Garrett Artemus grew to know and love, no, it was almost as if Garrett hadn't really existed before meeting Erin…

Artemus could of course however, remember how he met the young gutter rats, that and their first few years within the Haven. Those memories were far too precious to be tarnished by time.

Artemus was after all, the one to pick the thieves up from the streets.

Garrett had attempted to pick his pockets while he was on his way back to the Haven from some information rendezvous regarding stray rumors of revolution.

Revolutions were common enough in the city, though successful revolutions were rare. Back then it seemed as though there was a new faction within the city rallying support from the shadows, at the moment their goals seemed ambivalent enough, but Artemus knew how quickly motivations could change.

Absolute power, corrupts absolutely after all.

He was a young Keeper then, hardly two summers out of his schooling days, still new to his responsibilities but old enough to find himself disappointed by the simplicity of his task.

Surely hiking across the city was something anyone, specifically anyone other than Artemus could do? Someone younger perhaps, fresher from the folds of schooling?

Artemus' musings were cut short by the gentlest of tugs to his belt, and had he been a normal man, he would have merely dismissed it as his cloak catching the edge and carry on.

But Artemus was a Keeper.

The young street rat almost got away with his coin pouch as well as a ring of rather important keys, and had the young boy not tugged a touch too hard on the leather looplet securing said ring of keys to his belt, Artemus would have never seen his coin or keys again.

And dear stars that would have been the end of him.

At the time of their first meeting, Garrett was but a mere child, a lanky thing with filthy pale skin, hands and feet bare, caked with street sludge to the point where they appeared nearly black.

Years of grime coated his raven feather hair. His clothes were tattered rags, weighed down by dirt. He reeked of the gutters, rank and vile, it had been a long, long time since the city had seen rain, clean rain and the only water available to vagrants was just as diseased as the rest of the streets…

Yet despite his starving disposition, the boy, Garrett, was a fighter, his eyes, an incredibly deep russet, burned with an undying fire, wild and ruthless, that Artemus could only associate with that of feral creatures, desperate for survival.

And Artemus saw this the instant he snagged the young rat's wrist.

The young boy struggled viciously, swatting, punching and clawing at the hand holding his wrist, but he never used his voice, never cried out or shouted for help, he cried yes, silent tears as his expression twisted into a gut retching desperate, terrified grimace.

The young boy froze, ceasing his struggles only when Artemus began to speak, slow and steady, gently, as he would to any other younger apprentice within the Haven.

Promises of food and shelter set the boy into a panic, a wild, feral, blind panic, followed by teeth sinking into the exposed flesh of Artemus' wrist.

Artemus still had the scars where Garrett's teeth broke skin.

The sudden pain was enough to force Artemus to release his hold on the street rat. The Keeper clutched his wrist to his chest as he stifled the sudden need to snap in surprise, rather, he quickly tended to the minor wound, it wasn't the first time he had been bitten and he doubted it would be the last.

Once Artemus recovered from the attack, he moved to go after the boy…

However, the street rat was nowhere in sight.

He had vanished…

It had taken the Keeper, at most, three seconds to tend to the bite, to say that Artemus was impressed would be an understatement.

Artemus returned to the Haven that night with little fanfare, he had completed his task without any other interruptions or incidents. His success was acknowledged and he rewarded…

But as he lay in bed… The young Keeper found himself… Restless.

Artemus was a young Keeper then, not quite fresh out of his schooling, but nowhere near senior Keeper status.

He knew the histories of the city, of the Haven…

He knew he was not the first Artemus to roam the halls of the Haven.

And somewhere at the back of his mind, he knew, knew, with his very soul… That he was not the First of his name to look into those burning russet eyes...

It took Artemus three moon cycles to find the boy again...

Though their second meeting held far less of a struggle.


	3. Interlocking Paths

It was the dead of night during the cycle of the eighth moon, the western winds had settled with the sun and while the overhead clouds still sat heavy high above no snow fell.

The cold season had come early that year and Artemus was out enjoying the bitter cold as he paced the streets with a few younger Keepers, cataloging the dead lining the gutters.

It was a cumbersome task at worst, again, something which Artemus figured himself overqualified to do… But someone with experience needed to guide the newest batch of Keepers through the frozen streets, lest someone take a wrong turn and add themselves to the body count.

Artemus paused at a street junction as he waited for his partner, Keeper Hessia, to uncover yet another body curled up just at the mouth of an alley nearby.

He watched as his breath fogged in the crisp night while he kicked his feet through a snowdrift before him, feeling for yet another unfortunate soul unlucky enough to be caught in the surprise cold with his boots while his hands remained buried in his pockets to ward off the deathly chill.

The Eternal City, for all it's faults, was a marvel in winter.

The dark stained wood of the homes lining the vacant streets glistened with frost, ice and snow from the winter's fury, the cobblestone hidden beneath the pristine layer of sleet created a rolling texture which reflected the golden firelight of countless windows…

The streets were silent, every creature fortunate enough to find shelter was tucked away. Artemus knew that come spring, rather than fresh southern air and budding sprouts, the sweet scent of decay would permeate the air as the snow melted, revealing the dead, rotting and bloated with winter runoff…

A sudden scream flew into the night, followed by the sound of something shattering against a wall.

The surrounding houses, once silent, murmured with shuddered breaths as figures, old, tall, young, small, sickly appeared at the windows to look down to the street.

The Keepers out in the streets took to the shadows with bated breaths.

A door flew open.

A figure clad in too big, too loose, too little clothing ran from the warmth of the house, down the stairs and into the snow, tripping over the still, brittle form of a dead child hidden beneath.

"Ya vermin!" A woman screamed as she stormed down the stairs after the child, knife in hand.

"Filty, filty vermin! Stealin ma food! Stealin ma stores! 'Il 'ave ya gutted! Gutted I say!"

The child staggered back, desperately keeping himself away from the sweeping blade, if only by the mere seconds it took for him to find his footing.

Once, twice, trice the blade found purchase across the boy's upheld arms, staining the pristine snow red with blood and before Artemus could register his actions or second guess the consequences he flew from the shadowed gallery he had sought refuge in.

He rolled back his sleeve, feeling the bitter cold caress his arm as his fingers traced a delicate rune along the inside of his wrist.

A blade of cold iron, leathered handled, no longer than his forearm, sprung to his palm.

Artemus ran through the snow, ignoring his name, hissed in fury, he was young and strong all those years ago, able bodied.

Still the collision between kitchen knife and dagger reverberated through his bones as he parried the downward arch of the knife which would have settled snugly though the child's neck if not for his blade.

The kitchen knife would later be found once the snow melted, embedded deep within the cracks between the cobbled street.

The night returned to silence as the woman staggered back, her unsaid words, curses, pleas, screams choking her as she quickly returned to her home, slamming the door behind her, locking it tight.

The boy was gone again by the time Artemus turned around.

But unlike last time, he left an impossible not to see trail in the snow, punctuated by blood.

"Whot da bloodey 'ELL does ya tink yas be doings!" Keeper Hessia hissed in the silence of the streets.

Artemus offered his companion no response as he began to follow the bloodied trail of footprints, not bothering to check and see if she was following as he set off into the cold, dutifully as a wolf tracking wounded prey.

Artemus rounded corner after corner, constantly expecting to see the child as he was led further and further from the other Keepers out that night.

A knot of anxiety began to settle into Artemus' gut the longer he trailed the bloodied path... It was cold, so bitterly cold and that child was in nothing but rags…

When at long last the Keeper found the boy again, he was on his knees, curled in on himself, hands pressed to his sides to keep warm, tucked beneath a windowsill, where the snow had gathered poorly, of some skeletal house abandoned for the winter…

There were frantic, disorganized grooves in the snow atop the sill from where the child had attempted to pry open the window… But it was so cold, and the boy had been out so long that his hands must have been numbed…

In some last ditch, desperate attempt to survive, the boy must have hunkered down to try and warm himself. Artemus knew the story well.

'Just a minute, just a minute, I'll rest for just a minute and then try again.'

But rarely, rarely, rarely did anyone ever rise after just a minute...

Artemus approached the boy slowly, cautiously, weak or not, cold or not, the boy was borderline feral, and feral animals, backed into a corner, were dangerous…

That was what the young Keeper kept reminding himself as he watched a single tear roll down the painfully red cheeks of the child, freezing before it reached the ground…

That fire Artemus had seen those three moon cycles ago had dimmed to embers behind glassy, fearful eyes… But it was still there…

Still there...

A gentle tug on the Keepers belt alerted Artemus to the boy once again attempting to swipe his coin pouch.

The tips of his fingers were beginning to blacken.

Artemus watched pitifully as the boy's fingers shook and jittered uselessly, too cold to properly move or grasp the strings holding the coin pouch…

The young Keeper gently took hold of the street rat's wrist again.

There was a moment of silence between the Keeper and the street rat before the young boy slowly brought his other hand to clasp the hand Artemus' had around his wrist, loosely grasping the warmth of Artemus' robes with a silent, shuddering sob.

Artemus took hold of the boy's hands, slowly drawing them close to his hood to tuck them against his neck, they burned cold against the Keepers skin, twitching nervously as the child fought the urge to run…

But in the end, the boy was too weak, too cold to offer any real protest as Artemus took him from the cold snow and cobble and into his arms, tucking the boy into his cloak to keep him from the chill of winter.

Cataloging the dead be damned.

Artemus returned to the Haven without second thought.


	4. Stolen Sanctuary

The boy remained silent as Artemus swaddled him with a quilt and brought him to sit by the fire, he pressed a mug of hot cocoa into the child's hands, cupping the boy's hands in his own around the warm ceramic to chase away the chill settled into the boy's skin.

Artemus kept an eye on the child as he retreated to his bathroom to draw warm water, not hot, Artemus knew how damaging hot water could be against winter bitten skin.

He caught the boy sipping the cocoa slowly, his expression, a look of bliss as the sweet, creamy drink warmed his belly. It was probably the sweetest thing the child had ever had…

Artemus took the boy to bathe only once the mug of cocoa was emptied and the cold of winter was chased from his bones.

Artemus wasn't surprised to see just how pale the young lad was. Fair skin was a most common enough trait in the city, with her long winters and cool summers, the sun was often considered a myth.

But the contrast between how dark the filth clinging to the boy's hands, and the paleness of the flesh below was jarring for the young Keeper…

The child didn't struggle as Artemus stripped him out of the filthy rags he wore, he didn't flinch as he was made to step into the warm water, he didn't make a sound, though he did cry as Artemus began to scrub and lather his too thin, too frail body with soaps…

Artemus could only imagine the horrors the boy faced out in the streets. Guilt chewed at the Keepers bones as he drained the blackened water, refilling it anew while the boy sobbed silently and allowed the strange man who had taken him to continue his task…

There was fire in the boy's eyes, it burned and flickered with wrath and hatred and fear… But there was something deeper too. Something dark and knowing.

Artemus took no pleasure in the child's fear, thought he could imagine many other, horrible, horrible monsters who would… Who most likely had.

There was surprise in the boy's eyes when Artemus offered to cook him a meal while he finished cleaning himself.

Though there was no verbal response, the boy nodded, gratitude and unfathomable relief flooded the child's expression as Artemus removed himself from the side of the bathtub.

The first meal Artemus served the boy was warm and light, filling. Comforting…

The boy continued to sob as he ate, his hands quaking as he brought the spoon to his mouth and sipped the soup… He was well mannered for a street rat Artemus found himself thinking as he watched the child wipe his mouth with a napkin…

When all was said, done and consumed, Artemus gathered their dishes and offered the child his bed.

The boy hiccuped a sob, a single gasped, half-choked noise as his legs shook. His eyes fell to the floor as his hands shakily began to unbutton the shirt Artemus had found for him.

The Keeper knelt before the boy and took his hands, halting their quivering actions silently.

"I will sleep on the chair." The young Keeper said quietly, reassuringly. "I want nothing from you young one… Nothing."

The boy offered no words, but his eyes flickered.

'Everyone wants something…'

Artemus knew the look regretfully well, and not even he could deny the statement…

Still, he brought the boy to his bedchambers, tucked him into the bed, the bed which seemed to swallow the young boy whole.

Artemus took a seat at the edge of the bed, just beside the child's hip, he reached out slowly to press his palm to the child's forehead before he tossed another log into the fireplace and left.

Leaving the door ajar as he vacated to the chair by the other fire.

He dozed the entire night, never falling too far into slumber lest the boy need him… And lest the boy attempt to slip away in the dead of night.

It came as no surprise that Artemus awoke… 'Awoke' before the child.

When the young Keeper peered into his room come morning, he found the boy curled up with the quilt he had wrapped around his shoulders, snug and warm beneath the short sofa near the fire.

Dead asleep.

Artemus was more surprised by the fact that the boy hadn't tried to escape and despite his desire to return the boy to the bed, Artemus knew he would risk waking the boy.

He let him be for the time being.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, the boy slunk from the bedchamber, quilt still draped over his shoulders, the too big shirt Artemus had found him hung to his knobby knees, just as Artemus was about to rouse him to see if he was hungry.

The young Keeper spoke to the boy softly as he ate, attempting to draw a response from him…

Other than brief flickers of eye contact, a nod or shake of the head, the boy gave Artemus little to work with…

"I must return to my duties…" The young Keeper finally admitted once the dishes were cleaned and put away.

The young you looked up to Artemus, eyes wide and dark and afraid.

"I will return at noon." Artemus continued, he couldn't tell if his words brought comfort or not…

"I… I will be locking the door once I leave so you do not wander."

A glistening look of betrayal flickered across the boy's dark, dark eyes.

"Believe me when I tell you that you are safe here." Artemus sighed, "You… You should probably rest more…"

The young Keeper reached out to the boy, slowly, slowly, pausing as he flinched at the initial contact of Artemus' hand.

"I'll be back…" Artemus promised softly, squeezing the small shoulder gently.

"I'll be back."

Artemus stayed with the child whenever and for however long he could for the first few weeks, even going as far as to drag his duties to his bedchambers whenever possible.

Though, unfortunately often, his tasks tore him away from his chambers, and consequently the boy, for long, seemingly endless hours. But even then, he always made sure to check up on the boy, he was after all Artemus' responsibilities, and the Keeper would damn him if he allowed his new charge to go hungry...

Their first bout of separation, the brief time Artemus was forced to stand before his superiors and receive his penance for not only shirking his work, but also abandoning his partner, had been jarringly successful.

Artemus had returned at noon, just as promised, to find the child curled up in Artemus' armchair, smothered in his quilt, cozy and warm…

They sat together, quietly, and ate lunch, the boy was silent and no sooner had Artemus began to collect their dishes did the boy return to the armchair and snuggle down once again…

It took nearly two weeks before the child spoke.

Artemus had returned to his chambers late one eve after a grueling day out in the library searching for some ancient tome some student had carelessly misplaced.

A late dinner from the main hall in his hand and an apology at the ready as he unlocked his chamber door. He maybe expected his charge to be sat at the armchair or perhaps back in his bedchambers already asleep. What Artemus was not expecting was the boy ready and waiting at the door.

Artemus expertly balanced the plate holding their supper in one hand as he snagged the boy, not by the scruff of the long cloak he was wearing, stolen, Artemus' mind supplied, but by the hem of the shirt below.

He tugged the boy back into the room, kicking the door closed behind him before asking where exactly the young boy thought he was going.

The child paused at that, not because he was caught off guard by the question but because Artemus had unwittingly called him Sámhach, the name Artemus had been calling the boy in his head for the past few days…

Quiet was what the boy was, so quiet was what Artemus had named him.

"My name is Garrett." The boy hissed coolly, his voice rough with disuse, his eyes burning as he looked up to the Keeper.

Strength, resilience.

Both fitting for such a child.


	5. Foundations of Family

Artemus, despite the First Keeper's feverish protests, enrolled Garrett into the Haven's training program by the next fortnight.

He could tell his charge was growing restless in his chambers, he had been after the first week he had been confined there and honestly it was cruel to keep the young boy, so used to freedom, locked to those four walls.

However, the instant Artemus offered Garrett the door, the door Garrett had so stubbornly tried to slip through so many times before… The young boy cowered behind the Keepers leg, desperate not to lose sight of the Keeper.

His Keeper.

It took time and patience on not only Artemus' half, but on behalf of many other Keepers dedicated to the education of the foundlings… Behavioral problems were nothing unheard of within the Haven, many children indoctrinated into the Haven has some odd little tick about them. Nothing a guiding hand couldn't ease and nothing never seen before...

But it took an impossible amount of bravery for Garrett to properly settle into the Haven.

And Artemus used the term settle very lightly when it came to Garrett.

At first, as most children did, the young street rat remained cautious, sticking to Artemus' side whenever and for however long he could, and if not the Keeper, then the shadows.

Garrett walked as if he were treading glass. Constantly alert of every action and word he spoke or made. Even so young, Garrett was a remarkably quiet child, only speaking when spoken to unless he was in the presence of his Keeper, typical behavior of a street child.

The fear that one wrong step could see him thrown out pushed the young boy to continue, to strive, to survive.

"The Haven won't see you gone for something as silly as dropping a mug Sámhach." Artemus cooed as he dabbed his charge's dampened cheeks with a napkin.

"And I most certainly won't see you gone for something as silly as dropping a mug."

Garrett sniffled sheepishly as he looked down to his hands where he had collected the shattered remains of his cocoa mug, the very same cocoa mug Artemus had given him his very first night under his care.

"Are you sure?" The young boy whispered softly as he watched Artemus scoop up the clay fragments of the mug.

"Of course Sámhach." Artemus replied as he set the mess on the table before he turned back to his charge, just in time to hear Garrett mutter something along the lines of, "My name's not Sámhach…"

Artemus crouched low before the boy, setting his hands on Garrett's shoulders, ignoring the snide little comment.

"Just wait. Be brave." The young Keeper chimed, "Everything will be fine, you'll see."

And as the weeks dragged by and it became clear that mere missteps or a striking tongue would not be enough to have him cast from the Haven, that everything would indeed be fine…

Garrett began to return to… What Artemus could only assume to be his old ways.

The young Keeper wasn't exactly sure the development was good, but it was… Positive, at the very least.

The young boy stopped walking on glass, and began to pace among the shadows.

Artemus would watch as the young boy he had taken into his arms, into his home, in the dead of a cold, cold winter night night… Slunk through the darkness of the ancient library, stalking his prey until finally, he would reach out and strike with startlingly silent grace.

Picking pockets and swiping coin right beneath the noses of his fellow Keeper Apprentices. Even going as far as to swindle extra food right from beneath the cooks noses during mealtimes!

Of course, Artemus would force the young boy to return everything that had been stolen, if the young Keeper caught him in the act, much to the young boy's chagrin.

"They weren't being careful enough." Garrett would mutter stiffly as he watched his latest prizes disappear into the same pockets he had taken them from.

"They weren't expecting anyone to take their things." Artemus pointed out calmly as he ran his fingers through his charge's hair.

Garrett remained quiet and thoughtful as he leaned into the soft caress, Artemus could tell he was already planning his next attempt.

And he wondered if he'd be able to catch Garrett the next time...

True to Artemus' assumption, the young apprentice grew more and more apt in his trade with every attempt on a pocket, caught or not. So much so that even Artemus fell victim to the young boy's tricks more often than not.

It was a funny little joke between them in a way, though most subjected to finding their coin pouch or what have you missing, found it annoying, Artemus couldn't help the small swell of pride which welled in his chest every time Garrett offered him some stolen trinket.

Garrett had come a long way from a lowly street rat desperate for any amount of coin… Artemus could remember the young boy he had plucked from the snow that fateful night.

The boy who called himself Garrett.

The boy who clung to his leg and hid beneath his cloak whenever he could…

Artemus could remember the boy fondly.

But that boy was not the Garrett he knew today.

Everything Artemus thought he knew about the young boy changed once Erin came into the picture.


	6. Wild Things

Artemus could also remember Erin quite well.

It was the cycle of the fifth moon, the winter thaw was running late but the rainy season was right on schedule. Most of the streets were little more than knee deep slushy swamps of ice cold water and filth. The air was still cool for the season and the sky dark with clouds brimming with rain.

Artemus caught sight of her trying to pick a locked safe in some store while he was out doing some menial task.

At first, he thought Garrett had escaped again, the young lad had been getting frustratingly good at slipping out of the Haven to wreak havoc where he could…

It was only when he stepped into the store that he realized that no, that was not Garrett…

The young girl was half starved and desperate, with dirty skin, greasy, matted hair and little more than rags to cover her bones… A stark, visceral re-imagining of Garrett.

Artemus met her eyes, ash grey rather than burnt russet, before she dipped her hands into the safe, the safe she had successfully opened, grabbed all that she could in her hands and ran from the store, slipping out a low window as the clerk approached Artemus.

From that brief instant of eye contact, Artemus saw that, just like Garrett, that girl was a survivor.

She was long gone by the time Artemus was able to escape from the shop, disappearing into the twilight shadows just as Garrett had all those years ago…

This time however, Artemus went on the hunt.

Garrett had given him an exasperating amount of practice when it came to tracking people and while Artemus was undoubtedly thankful for the skill, he found himself unfortunately good at it.

The Keeper trailed the young girl as best he could in the growing night, following her bare footprints in the muck before they were washed away as an evening storm blew in from across the ocean.

It was still bitterly cold, and she, much like Garrett back then, had little else but rags to guard her.

By the time Artemus drew near the old Mill District, the evening storm had begun in earnest, frigid winds raced through the streets as sleet began to pelt buildings, stone and people alike.

Artemus could only hope the girl had found shelter from the storm as he retreated to the warmth of the Haven.

He strolled through the familiar halls, reported to his superiors, swung by the kitchens for a very late dinner and then returned to his chambers, not at all surprised to find Garrett curled up in his armchair, snuggled into a familiar quilt.

The young boy awoke as Artemus closed the door, the faint 'click' of the latch rousing him from his slumber.

Artemus approached his charge, running his fingers through the unruly raven locks once he drew close enough. The room smelled faintly of char, there were dishes in the sink but only a single pan with a suspicious amount of gristle latched onto its base…

"You missed dinner." Garrett mumbled as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, "I was waiting for you… But then I got hungry." The young boy yawned from his seat.

"I didn't set anything on fire this time." Garrett chimed in a bright, albeit, drowsy voice. Artemus smiled down at his charge, "Did you eat?" He asked in turn, Garrett nodded.

"Did you?" The young boy asked in turn. "Yes." Artemus huffed lightly, "I had some broth from the kitchens before I came, don't worry." Garrett nodded once before he slid from his seat, still cocooned in the quilt.

"I'm going to bed." He announced simply before walking past Artemus, just down the hall, and into Artemus' bedchamber. The Keeper sighed and rolled his eyes.

It had become some sort of routine over the past year and a half. At first Garrett would sneak into Artemus' chambers and sleep on the armchair by the fire. On a whim, Artemus attempted to invite Garrett to his bed again and thereafter, Garrett rarely slept anywhere else.

The young boy had his own room, his own bed, his own everything… But above all else, Garrett preferred to fall asleep nestled into Artemus' side, safe and warm.

Artemus didn't have the heart to send the boy away, especially not after the first time Garrett had drowsily addressed him as, "Papa." One night as Artemus was rising to add another log to the hearth.

Neither questioned the development, nor did they scorn it.

Artemus glanced to the sink briefly before deciding to let Garrett's catastrophe sit overnight. He slipped into his bathing chamber and prepared for bed, drawing himself a warm bath he would have loved to soak in but sadly could not.

Artemus hurriedly changed into his sleepwear as the bath drained, dimming the lights in the bathing chamber as he stepped into his bedroom. The hearth glowed warmly, the fire still strong, the Keeper added half a log to burn through the night before turning to his bed.

Garrett was curled beneath the blankets, quilt circling his shoulders and head beneath the comforter, eyes once again watching his Keeper. Artemus sighed as he tugged down the covers to join his charge, Artemus settled on his side and opened his arm expectantly.

Garrett wordlessly shuffled closer, pressing himself to the heat of his Keepers body, tucking his head to Artemus' throat to mumbled a sleepy soft, "G'night…" Against his Keepers throat before he fell still.

Artemus heaved a breath.

"Good night, Garrett…"

Artemus woke bright and early the next morning to resume his search of the old Mill District.

"Are you off to do important Haven stuff?" Garrett asked as he pulled himself up onto his chair at the small table, watching patiently as his Keeper prepared them breakfast.

"I am." Artemus replied casually, "And I expect you to head to your classes once I'm gone. No shirking just because your missing your books young man."

The storm had faded to rolling fog come morning, bathing the streets in an eerie mist.

The rain had washed the streets, leaving a fresh, smooth tapestry of grime in the gutters.

Most vagrants were roaming so early in the day, but the few who were Artemus found.

Rarely did street urchins wear shoes, why would they? Shoes were expensive, the best an urchin could do for themselves was bind their feet with cloth and while some of the trails leading through the muck were formless cloth prints.

They were not what Artemus was interested in.

The girl from the previous eve was barefoot and young, about the same age as Garrett when Artemus first found him roughly six or so years ago… Her feet were small, just like the rest of her.

The Keeper found hardly a trace of her that day save for a single smear where someone had slipped in the muck while attempting to hop between clear juts of cobble.

She was clever Artemus had to admit. Most streets rats didn't bother to cover their tracks, no point wasting energy on such pointless endeavors…

Unless of course, you were being hunted…

The Keeper continued to scour the Mill District each day for nearly a moon cycle, sometimes he would spend the entire day in the streets, sometimes a few hours.

Garrett called him a hypocrite for shirking his duties while forbidding him from shirking his schooling so they had to compromise.

More and more frequently did Artemus stumble upon traces of the vagrant girl, sometimes even catching glimpses of her ducking into shadowed alleys. He could never catch her, but at least he knew she was firstly alive, and secondly, still in the old Mill District.

The old Mill District wasn't large mind you, it was a strip of land by the mouth of the river, spanning maybe four blocks at most mostly comprising of (surprise, surprise) Mills, bakeries and upstairs apartments.

The old Mill District was prone to flooding however, being so close to the ocean, every thaw and rainy season saw the streets swamped and houses deluged.

It still took most of the growing season before Artemus finally found the girl again.

She was sheltering in some waterlogged basement of an old abandoned flour mill just at the edge of the river… Hidden within the darkness, scampering across crate tops to avoid the icy water below.

She refused to venture out into the street once Artemus found her, snarling like some wild beast when Artemus had attempted to fit through the small ground window to better reach her.

In fact, the first time the Keeper had stumbled across her hiding spot, he had seen her slip through the opening as he rounded the corner, she had forced herself so far into the darkness that Artemus lost sight of her, and remained so perfectly still and silent that, had he not caught sight of her retreat, Artemus would have doubted anyone there.

Still, Artemus refused to simply abandon the child, patience was a virtue, one that Artemus excelled in, much thanks to Garrett.

For many moons, Artemus returned to that flooded basement to stand by that window and speak…

Speaking always seemed to soothe Garrett, gentle tales of folklore and legend to imbued lessons or dull recounts of his day to ease his young charge into slumber.

So he spoke to the girl in the streets as he did to the boy in his home. He spoke of his day, of things he had learned, of life and death and lore, of the sorry state of the City.

He would leave a scrap of food by the entrance of her shelter each time he left and by his return it would be gone.

He hoped it was the girl taking them and not some passer by.


	7. Feral Bravery

Progress was slow, some days were better than others, some days Artemus left feeling as though he had done more bad than good… But he never wavered in his routine.

And with time, the young girl slowly began to creep closer and closer to the broken storm window which served as the entrance of her abode.

They would sit together, Artemus on the street, perched atop the closest sill to the storm window, his back resting against the house and the girl in the darkness…

The Keeper would speak, she would listen.

Once or twice during those uncertain meetings did Artemus glimpse those glistening eyes, grey as ash, brewing like a storm, peering up from the darkness if he dared look into the gloom below.

It took time, patience and effort to draw the young girl out from the depths of her hiding place. But it was worth it… It was more than worth it.

Shortly before the cold season returned to the city once again, just as the chill in the air allowed for breath to thicken and frost to creep across the slumbering city in the dead of night…

The young girl finally emerged.

Crawling from the storm window on gangly limbs, filthy, starved and weak, but alive…

Artemus watched out of the corner of his eye as the girl slowly pulled herself up and out of the window well, keeping her gaze trained on him as she moved to sit against the opposite side of the window from him.

She reeked of sewage and rot, Artemus could see the extensive patchwork of injuries just beneath the layer of filth covering her visible flesh like armor…

Very few of the wounds were properly healed, many were risen high, inflamed and angry, from her skin, festering with infection and disease…

Artemus found himself looking at the girl, she sat there on the ground, watching him expectantly in turn.

It was then that Artemus realized that he had stopped talking…

"I know someone just like you." He murmured softly, soothingly, watching the girl.

"He lived on the streets, just as you are… The picked pockets to survive…"

The girl remained silent, but her eyes brightened inquisitively.

"He bit me the first time we met." Artemus continued, slowly rolling up his sleeve to show the ring of scars adorning his wrist.

"I offered him my home, and he panicked, dreading what he thought I was expecting in return." Artemus didn't miss how the girl tensed beside him, how her hand slowly inched towards the rim of the window well.

"He disappeared after that, for many moons… But I never forgot his face." Artemus sighed, watching as his breath floated from his lips, catching on the chilling breeze before wafting away…

"I feared he wouldn't survive the winter… Not many street urchins do, and he nearly didn't either…"

The girl shivered then… Artemus wondered if the coming cold was to be her first winter…

"He was taking shelter in some butcher's home, hiding himself among the walls and rafters, swindling cuts whenever he could." Artemus paused to better recall the memory.

"He was caught one eve… And thrown out into the street." Artemus shook his head absentmindedly.

"It was the middle of winter. So bitterly cold that the very air would burn your lungs with every breath you took…" Artemus glanced to the girl again, she was still watching him.

"I was out counting the dead when I stumbled upon him… Sheltering beneath a windowsill, desperately trying to keep warm." The Keeper smiled gently…

"He didn't bite me a second time… He let me take him to my home, let me help him…"

Artemus looked to the girl again.

"He's been with me ever since…"

Slowly, carefully… The Keeper offered the girl his hand, holding his breath as she flinched away. Artemus feared she would retreat, but she was brave… So brave.

Artemus stayed still… Watching as the girl looked between his eyes and his offered palm.

After a pause, a very long pause filled with bated breath and timid glances, the young girl slowly began to reach out, hesitating briefly just before closing her fingers around the large palm.

Artemus smiled gently as he slipped from the windowsill to crouch before the girl, keeping his movements slow to reassure the girl of his intent as he shed his outer cloak, wrapping it around the young girl's shoulders as best he could. The girl was very small, and his cloak seemed to swallow her, but it did a good enough job of shielding her from the chill of the early cold.

Once the girl was adequately covered, Artemus stood and offered his hand once more, the girl slipped her small, cold fingers into the Keeper's palm, allowing herself to be led away from the rank basement without a word…

Once he was sure the girl was not about to bolt, Artemus hoisted her into his arms, cocooning his robe around her small body. She struggled only briefly, confused by the unexpected position she found herself in.

Artemus apologized, simply and softly. She settled thereafter, even going as far as to bury her face against his throat, seeking further warmth as her arms came to wrap around his neck.

Artemus carried her to the Haven just as he had with Garrett.


	8. A Most Comfortable Cage

He swaddled her in another quilt upon arriving to his bedchambers.

Garrett had claimed the first quilt he had given him, the quilt Artemus had wrapped around him upon his arrival to the Haven, as his own, no questions asked.

So Artemus made another, specifically telling Garrett that the new quilt was not to leave his chamber.

Artemus was honestly surprised the quilt had not vanished the moment he turned his back to the boy, but he would take the miracle.

Regardless, the second quilt was wrapped around the young girl's shoulders in place of his cloak as he set her by the fire. It was not yet winter so he wasn't exactly concerned with frostbite as he had been with Garrett…

But he knew as well as the next person how nice a warm hearth could feel against chilled skin. He told her softly to stay put while he retrieve something to eat.

"I will return soon… Wait for me."

Artemus was honest when he said he would return soon. He must have only been gone for three minutes at most, at most! Granted, he practically ran the entire way.

But by the time he returned, Garrett was seated right beside the girl, pressed snug to her side, his arm around her shoulders, his cheek resting atop her head. Garrett's quilt wrapped securely around both of them…

They looked so… Remarkably similar… Comfortable beside one another. Dark raven hair, the girl's rough and choppy, matted, dirty. Garrett's tied back into a small, tight braid, straight if somewhat wavy when loose.

Dark eyes watched the fire, the golden glow warming the children's cheeks.

The door closed behind Artemus with a soft 'click' and the two younglings turned to the sound, their eyes falling to the Keeper soon after.

"I named her Erin." Garrett said quietly as he watched the Keeper approach, the girl slowly pressing herself further into his small side as Artemus passed.

"Did you now?" He asked softly as he sunk into the armchair just behind them. Garrett nodded as he abandoned his seat beside the girl to crawl into Artemus' lap once the Keeper had settled into the chair.

"She didn't like her name…" Garrett murmured softly as he pressed his forehead against his Keeper's throat, "So I gave her a new one…"

Artemus hummed softly against the crown of Garrett's head as he offered his other thigh to the girl, Erin...

Erin followed Garrett's lead nearly as soon as Artemus offered her a seat on his lap, albeit a tad nervously. Still, she too settled into Artemus' lap, resting her head against his shoulder as she drew the quilt tighter around her shoulders.

The Keeper doubted he would ever see that quilt again.

Artemus held the two children close to his chest until they were warm and fed, Garrett necessarily so.

He didn't bother sending Garrett back to his dorm room either, the young lad always had a habit of sneaking back into Artemus' bed, with an inordinately high success rate too boot.

Rather, he sent Garrett off to his bed to prepare it for Erin, which the young boy did dutifully, ruffling and shifting the comforter and quilts about to form a comfortable nest of blankets as Artemus bathed the young girl, Erin, as Garrett had called her.

Erin remained still as Artemus lathered her hair with soap and scrubbed the dirt and grime away with washes. Not a fear fueled stillness either, she was tired, too tired, it was expected given all that had happened to her that day.

Artemus dressed her in one of his lounge shirts, the sleeves fell to her knees and the bottom just to her feet, but it was soft and warm and clean.

At first, Artemus planned on sleeping on the armchair by the fire, leaving his bed to the two younglings. He tucked them in, snug and warm and left.

Not ten minutes later, Garrett slipped wordlessly into his lap once again, nestled close, and fell asleep. Not two minutes after Garrett's arrival did the girl appear as well, rubbing the sleep from her tired eyes as she blindly stumbled to the chair, quilt draped over her shoulders like a cloak.

Artemus sighed and hoisted the two now quite asleep children into his arms, returning them to his bed.

This time he didn't leave, the three of them settled into the bed, curled around one another snug and warm where they remained until morning.

Three days after Erin came into the Keepers compound, she firmly situated herself as Garrett's shadow and refused to leave his side, following after the older boy whenever she could, regardless of Artemus' fretting or the fact that Garrett had classes.

Garrett. The lone wolf within the Haven, was surprisingly content with having a tail, in fact, he seemed pleased by it.

When asked about Erin whenever the younger girl managed to sneak into class behind him, he would shrug and reply with a cryptic, "She's mine." Erin would preen in her seat until Artemus came to retrieve his wayward charge.

Erin was properly enrolled in the Haven far faster than Garrett had been, hardly a week after her arrival she was gently ushered into her first class by Artemus, bright eyed and excited.

Artemus would later be found once again leading the young girl out of Garrett's class after she realized that they weren't learning together. It took nearly a moon cycle for Erin to understand that she needed to stay within her own year group.

Besides their different schedules, however, the two were rarely seen apart.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner and any moment of spare time they shared was spent together.

They would sit together in the library reading, or beside one another at Artemus' table doing their school work. Though nightly curfew would see the two separate for a time, many other Keepers had witnessed the chance occasion of either Garrett or Erin sneaking out of bed in the dead of night to go join the other.

Though more often than not, Artemus would wake to find his children pressed snug against his sides.


	9. How To Fall

As the years rolled by, Garrett and Erin grew into themselves.

Gone were the gangling limbs and knobby joints of starvation, the vile sludge beneath their nails and grime on their knees.

Artemus took care of his children, good care, watched them carefully as they grew, guided them, helped them, whichever way he knew how.

Garrett developed a sleek, lithe build, but a healthy sort of lithe, not the kind of lithe found on young street rats from running away with whatever measly scrap of food they had managed to swipe.

No, Garrett's form came from the countless hours he spent out in the Haven's training fields. Artemus wasn't exactly surprised by the young boy's developing interest in training, after spending so many years on the streets helpless and afraid, it was nearly natural for Garrett to want strength for himself lest he be forced into another unfortunate situation…

However, try as Artemus did, he could not erase all traces of the streets from the boy.

Garrett remained a quiet child, no longer shying from everyone who dared look at him, but never really reaching out to interact with his fellow apprentices either, save for Erin of course.

It was also not only Garrett's voice to remain quiet, but just about everything else about him. On the streets, you learned fast or you died. You used what you had to your advantage, no matter how little.

Garrett's wasn't a strong child, he couldn't use brute force to worm his way out of messes, so he developed sharp street wits and light feet instead which was ideal for him then as years of little food and rest and love had taken their toll, leaving Garrett to reach a rather petite stature.

His forehead remained the perfect height for Artemus to press his cheek to without needing to bend low, the Keeper respected the older boy too much to forgo Garrett's firm request of 'no kisses', and Artemus most certainly did not want to get onto Garrett's bad side.

Things always tended to go missing if you got on Garrett's bad side...

Erin, likewise, grew akin to Garrett, rivaling each and every advance of her not quite brother with her own feminine grace. Developing elegantly supple curves to challenge Garrett's sleek build. Training alongside Garrett to build her own strength, steadying her posture and physique.

The old roots of survival were etched into her veins, while the blossoms of knowledge supplied by the Keeps bloomed in her mind.

Artemus did his best to encourage more… Constructive hobbies onto his children to starve off the inevitable as best he could.

Garrett liked learning about the history of the once thought Eternal City? The Haven was always in need of historians.

Erin mentioned she wanted to try her hand in design? Blueprint paper and pencils at the ready…

Truthfully then, Artemus was… Troubled by the direction his charge's lives seemed to be coursing towards. At every turn and insistence, whenever Artemus attempted to steer Garrett and Erin's attention away from what he feared most; they would rebound dutifully…

The Keeper Enforcement Unit was a prestigious faction within the Haven.

Made of only the strongest minds and able bodies... Many joined the unit by their own terms though a select few were coaxed into the profession.

The Keeper Enforcers were the bloodied hands of the Haven… And Artemus cowered at the thought of Garrett and Erin disappearing beneath those golden masks, never to be seen or spoken to again…

It was both a blessing and a curse to find out what exactly his two children had become so captivated by during their years within the Haven.

Thieving.

Again, if Artemus was honest with himself he could say without a shadow of doubt that he wasn't surprised the two turned to such a… Profession.

They were, after all, never ones to take kindly to the laws of the Haven, and they seldom had eyes for anyone other than themselves or each other.

Artemus watched the two carefully, patiently… He was well past the point of concerning himself with his children's safety, he knew damn well that Garrett and Erin would take care of each other…

The waiting nearly killed him however… The waiting and the watching.

Garrett was older than Erin by six or so years by Artemus' best guess. He graduated from the Haven's basic schooling program at eighteen(?) as most apprentices did, Erin was still buried beneath a few more years and at first, Garrett seemed content to wait for his sister…

At first…

Artemus tried his best to brace himself for the day he awoke to find his children missing, gone with the night. He could tell the two were growing restless within the halls of the Haven.

Despite Erin's schooling and the job Garrett had secured for himself as a Rune Scribe to pass the years… It wasn't enough...

Artemus tried to brace himself… He did…

But…

The evening Garrett and Erin came to his room in the dead of night, not yet a year after Garrett's graduation, silent as ghosts, to press ginger kisses to his cheek and murmur the softest of goodbyes… Before they slunk off into the shadows.

Broke Artemus' heart…

Artemus tried to be strong, stars knew he tried…

Artemus rose the very next morning with tears dried on his cheeks, his throat sore and chest hollow. He ate cooked and breakfast alone… It wasn't exactly uncommon for him to eat alone in the morning, Erin had her dorm and main hall, Garrett had his own flat by then…

But the fact that he knew, he knew, that his was to be the first of many lonely mornings…

Artemus went about his day as best he could, desperately trying to distract himself from the absence his children created…

There would be no silent shadows passing him by with sly eyes and cheeky smiles that spoke of mischief. There would be no arms to wrap around his waist in surprise embraces as he set books back onto the library shelves…

Oh but the gnawing… Worry…

Artemus told himself that they would be fine. He told himself over and over throughout the first few days…

They had each other… They weren't alone. They were survivors. They would be fine...

As the saying went.

You could take an animal from the wild.

But you could not take the wild from the animal.

It was a hollow comfort… But it was the only comfort Artemus found…


	10. For Naught

The First Keeper, Orland, newly appointed to the position, was furious upon learning of Garrett and Erin's desertion… To say the least.

The older man always had a vendetta against the two siblings, believing them too wild, too distractible and far too enthralled by their wicked pass times.

Though nearly everyone knew the only real reason behind his heated distaste for the two was because, as they were, Garrett and Erin were a packaged deal, you insult one, you insult both.

That was bad enough, but to slander Artemus, before the two no less?

Orland had dug his own grave, shit in his own bed, whatever have you. Garrett and Erin were only there to make sure he understood those facts.

The only thing that had kept the two safe from Keeper Orland's wrath was Artemus, sweet, gentle Artemus who could soothe the ire of the bastardly old man with simple words, even when Keeper Orland was appointed the position of First Keeper, Artemus, somehow, kept him in line and most importantly away from his children.

With Garrett and Erin out of the Haven however… The blockade Artemus had carefully created, fell.

Upon hearing word of their desertion, Orland stretched his resources far and wide across the City to find the two thieves.

By his word, the Keeper Enforcers, the very group Artemus had so feared his children would join, rifled the City for weeks, searching for the two defectors tirelessly, day and night...

Artemus had never felt so helpless in his life, there he was, watching, waiting, listening, from the walls of the Haven, which had become uncomfortably prison-like, as his children were hunted like hounds in the streets above.

He had pled and begged Orland to spare his children, to, if not kill, merely return them to the Haven for discipline. Orland reminded the younger Keeper that the two thieves had the power to destroy everything the Keepers had worked up to…

Garrett and Erin were a threat to the Haven…

But they weren't!

Artemus knew they weren't…

For many moon cycles, Artemus wandered the halls of the Haven, listless and dreary… Waiting, just waiting for someone to tell him that his children had been struck dead…

The news never came… And by the dead of winter, everyone assumed that the two had perished of more natural means. The Enforcers were called off… And Artemus took to the streets.

"Surely your time would be better put elsewhere?" Keeper Deandy mused as he watched Artemus tug on a thick fur coat to count the dead.

Artemus offered no response as the first lash of frigid winter air raked its claws against his cheeks.

He counted the dead diligently, uncovering each and every corpse he came across, praying to whichever deity had the heart to listen that he wouldn't find his children, stiff, cold and dead beneath the snow…

Artemus searched for Garrett and Erin all throughout the long winter seasons, and even when all bodies had been counted, he wandered more…

Stopping only once the thaw arrived and those unfortunate and damned to not survive were dragged, bloated and rancid with decay, from the streets...

Still, Artemus, despite his worry... Never believed for a moment that his children had perished that long winter.

The Haven held a small eulogy for the two come fist seeding to commemorate their lives and the talent lost to recklessness and greed.

Artemus never bothered attending.

He was busy tracking a rather suspicious chain of thefts out by the old Mill District...


	11. Return To Sender

Looking back throughout the years, all those years…

Artemus would be lying if he said the lives of his children, his two thieves, hadn't been riddled with twists and turns.

From the time he had first met Garrett, the young street rat who had attempted to pick his pockets on his way home, who held the brightest fire in his eyes, who dared to sink his teeth into a Keeper wrist...

Until that fateful winter where they met again. And Garrett, desperate, afraid, cold, so very cold, tucked himself to Artemus' side and never quite left.

To the young girl hiding within a flooded cellar, resorting to scouring the muck and grime of the City, desperate for food, coin or clothing… Affection… Simply fighting to see the next sunrise, simply fighting to survive…

Before finally taking the hand offered to her.

Through the years they spent within the Haven, hidden beneath the welcoming safety of Artemus' shadow, they learned, they lived, they thrived. And all the while, Artemus watched. Watched them grow, watched them survive...

Until finally, the Haven, a place of safety and learning, became too small for them and they realized that they couldn't grow anymore, couldn't call the Haven home anymore...

They assured Artemus that their decision to leave the Haven, leave his watchful shadow, leave the only home they knew… Was not made rashly. Hastily perhaps, but not rashly.

They were suffocating within the confines of the Haven, suffocating.

The Keepers had offered them much, and the two would be forever grateful, but it wasn't enough to keep them…

Artemus tried not to take offence, he understood, truly he did. The Haven was no longer salvation, there was more out in the city streets, more out in the world…

But Artemus was of the Haven…

To leave the Haven was to leave Artemus.

And Artemus understood… He did.

His children needed to leave the Haven, leave Artemus…

Their return to the city, to the streets was not one of defeat, not of fear or desperation no. the lessons of the Haven were etched into their bones alongside the horrors of their youth.

Garrett and Erin's return to the city, to the streets was of conquest.

A silent declaration of war.

They were no longer children, weak and afraid and hungry and cold.

They would be called monsters and myths, ghosts and wraiths, living shadows or daemons.

They would stalk the streets that once ruled them, and claim the absent throne for themselves.

They were well prepared, strong, swift silent, intelligent. They could survive the cruelties of the city, better yet they could thrive!

And it should not have been anywhere as much of a surprise to the thief siblings that their father would eventually and inevitably find them.

"Do you have any idea how worried I've been?" Artemus said softly, his voice on the verge of wavering as tears warmed his cheeks and dampened Garrett, his alive, so very alive, son's shoulder.

"No note? No way to contact you two? Oh, I nearly died with concern." Artemus scolded as he drew Erin, his daughter, close, tucking her head beneath his chin before he began to gently sway them back and forth.

"We're fine Pa…" Garrett murmured quietly, sheepishly, as he watched Erin press her face into their Keeper's throat, her shoulders shook as the front of Artemus' cloak began to darken with tears.

"And how was I supposed to know that?" Artemus snapped, not cruelly, never cruelly. "Orland ordered your death you know. And there was nothing I could do to persuade him otherwise."

Artemus pressed a firm kiss to the top of his daughter's head, "I never lost faith in you two." He said firmly, "I know that you would never allow yourselves to be caught…"

Artemus reached out to pull Garrett, his son, close, drawing the older thief into a tight hug alongside his sister. "But I worried… Stars was I worried." Artemus sighed as he pressed a kiss to his son's forehead.

"Never do something like this again. Please… I don't think I could handle losing you two…"

The two bowed their heads, averting their eyes, Artemus held them firm, drawing them to his shoulders silently.

"I… I can't expect you to return to the Haven…" He murmured softly once they, his children his! Stopped their soft weeping, "And I can't force you to return either, that would be cruel…"

Artemus took a step back, keeping one hand on each of his children's shoulders. "You two have grown so much… And I know that this." He gestured vaguely to the cathedral attic he found himself in, "Is where you want to be."

He smiled and huffed something ginger, "I've no idea why… But if it makes you two happy, I won't discourage it…" The hands on the thieves' shoulders moved up to cup their cheeks.

"I am so, so very proud of you two. It broke my heart that you decided to leave without saying goodbye, but stars know I would have done everything I could to have you stay…"

Artemus swallowed thickly as he looked between his children, "Please…" He whispered, "Write me, come visit, I know damn well that you two can sneak in and out of the Haven…"

Garrett and Erin, his children, his children! Chuckled at the statement before they moved to him again, burying their faces into his robes as they tucked themselves close.

"Don't leave me like that again…" Artemus whispered delicately, "I know you don't need me anymore… But please, don't leave again… Not like that."

"Thought you'd be upset…" Erin mumbled into Artemus' shoulder, "Oh I was, I was Erin… I was so upset that you'd think to leave me in the dead of night. But you know me… You know I could never stay mad at you…"

"We're sorry, pappy… So sorry."

Artemus sighed, "I know Erin… I know…"

The Keeper stepped back once more to smile before he turned to settle himself atop an evidently well laid in nest of blankets, he patted the spaces beside himself.

"Now… Tears aside, tell me everything, what have you two been up to? How was your first winter outside the Haven?"

Erin's bout of laughter was accompanied by a sob as she rushed to her Keeper's side, pressing herself beneath his arms as she began to delve into the wild and wonderous adventures she and Garrett had been on.

Another weight appeared against Artemus' opposite side as Garrett settled beside the Keeper to listen to his sister.

The three sat in the candlelight of Garrett and Erin's hideout until the early hours of dawn, talking among themselves in hushed whispers until Erin's voice drew quiet and her eyes heavy.

"I love you both…" Artemus whispered softly as he drew the duvet Garrett had most definitely stolen from some estate over Erin's shoulder, pressing a final kiss to her forehead as she finally nodded off to sleep.

"You'll look after your sister, won't you?" Artemus asked softly as he ran a hand through Garrett's hair, soothing the unruly raven locks as the elder thief curled close to his sister.

"I always have." Garrett replied quietly as he leaned into his father's hand.

"And you'll come visit me? You won't stay away?"

Garrett nodded again, "We will, Pa, I promise…"

Artemus pressed a kiss to Garrett's forehead, the elder thief didn't even flinch away from the contact.

"I love you both." Artemus repeated firmly.

"We love you too." Erin mumbled against Garrett's chest, "Now either come to bed or get out."

Artemus merely laughed.

His children were safe.

His children were alive…

And he was so, so, so very proud of them.


	12. Botched

Some years after Garrett and Erin had fled the Haven there was an… Accident...

Artemus had long since come to understand his children's need for freedom. He was no longer bitter over their departure, though he worried (constantly Garrett would say) the average amount for any doting parent, he wouldn't be the one to cage his children in a gilded prison…

No, he'd watch them soar, and he'd be there to catch them should they fall, just as any loving father would…

Despite his children's insistence that they were fine, that they were careful, that he didn't need to worry… He did… And he was right to.

The whispers of revolution which had first crawled and squirmed through the city gutters like maggots within a bloated corpse, had been steadily growing over the years, evolving wings to break free of the festering decay, sparking courage and bravery in the lowest of the common folk.

And as demands for change, for equality began to rise in the streets, taking flight in the form of countless voices, the Baron, sheltered high above the city in his grand estate, turned his ears away.

Garrett came to Artemus one day, unprompted.

It had been three years since the two had let the Haven at this point, and yes, the two visited Artemus often, but each visit would be preluded by a letter.

The thieves never just dropped in unless…

Artemus suddenly found himself very worried upon finding Garrett, only Garrett, seated at his kitchen table.

The only time one of the thieves had ever dropped by for a visit without warning was when Erin had failed to cross an alley.

Something had gone awry, to say the least, and the younger thief had suffered a broken leg and a shattered wrist as a result, Garrett had been able to get his sister to safety, but he was no doctor.

At Erin's insistence, Garrett left her to seek out their Keeper on his own.

Artemus of course sent his aid, damning the fact that Garrett had approached him in the middle of a meeting with Keeper Sovel, a rather nosey Scribe who immediately sought out Orland to inform him of what he had seen.

Regardless of the peril he faced with his name under scrutiny within the Haven, Artemus worked endlessly to repair his daughter's broken bones, staying with the two thieves in their newest hideout until Erin was good as new.

Luckily, Artemus was welcomed back into the Haven some weeks later, partly due to popular demand, and partly due to a compromise between Orland and the two thieves, on the thieves' behalves for their Keeper.

Artemus didn't particularly enjoy the fact that his children more or less willingly struck a deal with the First Keeper to keep him out of trouble, but he was grateful.

The compromise, Artemus would come to learn, basically enabled the two thieves free reign of the city so long as the Haven could utilize their services in times of strife, granted they were willing to pay.

Artemus found it odd that Orland would agree to such a trivial bargain, the Enforcement Unit was more than apt at dealing with such tasks. Something was afoot, Artemus wasn't sure what exactly… And he didn't like it…

Still, the deal allowed Artemus to see his children more often than before, whenever the Haven had a mission for the two thieves, it was always he who went to negotiate their terms.

Their most recent task was a long term endeavor. The thieves were tasked with collecting information regarding the rising rumors of the most recent revolution and they, Artemus, Garrett and Erin, would meet once a week to discuss the thieves' findings over tea.

The revolution, according to the thieves, was not yet collected enough to even begin thinking about taking to the streets. The ideas and motivations were there, but the city had yet recovered from the previous revolution to dye the streets red…

Artemus and his thieves had last seen one another Saturday evening, hardly three days ago, so to see Garrett anxiously sat at his table, alone, without Erin…

Meant that this visit pertained to something either incredibly important...

Or very, very bad.


End file.
